John's World
by enshadowed
Summary: What happends when Sherlock, John's world, stops breathing and has to be rushed to hospital? will Sherlock survive? and will John finally be alble to admit his love for the detective?  yep, i'm crap at summaries
1. One introduction

Sherlock (one)

Rated T. sorry for any OOC they are unintentional.

"Sherlock!"

His voice pierced the silence like a knife to the heart.

"What the fuck happened to our flat?"

The apartment was in ruins, shards of glass covering the floor and furniture flung around in tatters. Signs of a struggle echoed around the room, and a blood outline of a hand was present on the other side of the door, by the handle. John's eyes followed the small blood trail to the window, which was broken, hence the glass, and the curtains fell to cover what John hoped wasn't a dead body.

"Sherlock what the hell have you done?" immediately the doctor assumed it was another of the detective's lurid experiments, and began to search for Sherlock.

John approached the body, hoping it wasn't Anderson, who had popped around earlier to deliver news on an escaped convict in the area they should look out for, especially Sherlock, who had jailed him. The doctor reached down and whipped off the curtains, fearing the worst. What he saw was far worse then what he'd expected, and he gasped, dropping the curtain in shock.

The detective lay on the floor, long legs tucked into his chest as he shivered, blood covering his handsome face and clothes-less body, the knife in his neck causing him pain. He twitched and John met his tear-stained eyes.

"Come here." John swallowed and tried not to faint at the sight, leaving his crutches on the wall for a moment and kneeling down to help his friend. He dressed him for decency while calling the ambulance, and the police, and trying to comfort Sherlock while they waited together, both men trying not to cry. John removed the knife from sherlock's neck and wrapped a bandage around the wound, stroking his hair to try and reassure the mute detective.

He had always sworn to look after Sherlock. And he wasn't going to stop now.

NEE-NAW NEE-NAW NEE-NAW

"Thank God." John breathed a sigh of relief and helped Sherlock sit upright, sighing once more as the detective was still taller although they were seated. The man looked at him through half-lidded eyes, smiling despite his pain. "You're alright aren't you." John laughed half-heartedly. He could have lost Sherlock. He could have lost his world. All because he'd gone to his mother's for lunch. Sherlock had begged him to stay.

"_He's been acting funny all day" John thought, smiling as Sherlock fell to his knees and grabbed John's leg, carefully avoiding his hurt leg, unlike the time before, "then again, when has Sherlock ever acted normally?" he smiled to himself and wandered towards the door. _

"_Stop it you'll make my leg lock again!" he laughed, grabbing the door handle, "I'm only going for a few hours."_

"_BUT JOHN! THERE'S A MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE LOOKING FOR ME! AND THE PHYSIC SAID I WOULD BE STABBED TODAY!"_

"_I never knew you believe in psychics Sherlock."  
"I don't. who does?" Sherlock laughed nervously and stood to his feet, trying to regain his dignity, "I'll see you later then." And with that the detective flopped onto the sofa, sulking._

"_Someone's bi polar." John smirked and left the apartment._

"I should've staid with you. I'm sorry."

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. His pulse stopped.

"SHIT!" John yelped and ran to the door, where a woman paramedic appeared, wielding a stretcher. She was followed by two muscular male paramedics, and they all acknowledged Sherlock in a heartbeat.

"He's alright then?" she smiled, flicking a lock of red hair from her pale face.

"Yes- no- he was at first but now he's stopped breathing! I-"

Her face went astonishingly paler. "Oh I see- Peter get the stretcher!"

The taller man behind her nodded, and together, under John's watchful eye, the two men rushed his Sherlock to the ambulance while trying to breathe life into the lifeless body…

Okay I know it was short- it's the introductionary chapter. The next ones will be longer, promise ^_^

Please review ! helpful advice will be acceptable!

I aim to update at least one chapter every other night, but if I have loads of Homework it may be once a week, we'll see.


	2. Two

Sherlock- John's World chapter two.

Okay short… but not as short as the first chapter. :P

T. I do not own Sherlock. I think I forgot to mention this on the previous chapter =P whoops. Hehehe any OOC is unintentional.

Italics are flashbacks- I forgot to mention that tooo…. =P

"um excuse me, Mr Watson? I have some good and bad news for you." The nurse approached the slumped doctor, who looked up hopefully, eyes sparkling with tears.

He had been in the hospital for three days now, waiting and worrying. The nurses hadn't permitted him to enter the room and see Sherlock, and he'd worried himself sick about the man.

"Yes, what is it?" he stood and tried not to gasp as his leg locked again. It had locked constantly for the last 3 days due to stress.

"He's alive." The nurse smiled, "But… not getting much better. The knife hit a few of his nerves, and the doctor predicted it will take a few months for him to be able to walk, that is if he survives this month… he has 50/50 chance now. It's better then earlier…"

John couldn't speak. 50/50. 50 per cent chance of his world disappearing. 50 per cent chance of everything that mattered dying, being lost, forever. He wiped away a tear and stood, addressing the nurse.

"Can I see him now?"

She considered, "Alright. But only for a few minutes."

He rushed in, heart pounding loader then anything else. All he could think about was Sherlock. Oh Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock….

_It was raining. John left the library and began walking down the street towards home, dialing for Sherlock as he did so. He'd done the research, and found their man, and so was reporting to Sherlock who he should nail, as if the detective hadn't figured it out already. _

"_Sherlock. It was George."_

"_I knew that, didn't you?"_

"_Whatever. I'm coming home."  
"oh no don't do that."_

"_Why not?"_

"_because I'm in the middle of something." _

_Beep. "Bastard. Why did he make me do all that research if he knew it was George all along?" he snarled, trying to shield his face from the rain. "and why doesn't he want me around?" he felt hurt, rejected, like a puppy left alone by it's owner. _

"_Sherlock? I'm home." He called lazily, entering the flat. _

_A sudden sound came to his ears and he paused, entranced. The sound of the violin made him blush, and almost cry; it was beautiful. _

_He followed the sound to the living room, where a tremendous sight hit his tired eyes._

_Sherlock sat on the sofa in his usual dressing gown, eyes closed and brow frowned in concentration as the bow slid up and down the strings, creating the most beautiful sounds the doctor had ever heard. John entered, silently and took a seat opposite, the detective, watching, listening. Sherlock didn't open his eyes, or hear the doctor come in, and they staid like that for hours, John crying silently with happiness. _

_That was when Sherlock became John's world._

"Sherlock?" the Sherlock before him looked nothing like then- he was paler, withdrawn and silent, eyes closed, lips in a long straight line of pain. His face was no longer covered in blood, but his neck was bandaged and supported. A doctor leant over him, monitoring his heartbeat, a frown on his handsome face.

"He'll be asleep for a while. I'll just go give the results to Ella, then I'll be back to take his blood pressure. After that you'll have to leave, I'm afraid."

"Alright." John smiled sadly and turned his attention back to Sherlock, who stirred in his sleep.

The doctor left and the room was sentenced to silence.

John tried not to cry. "S-Sherlock. I'm sorry. I didn't know… I wouldn't of…."

"is he gone?"

The detective's lips were so still he might not have spoken.

"W-what?"

"is that bastard of a doctor gone?"

"yes." John smiled. Same old Sherlock.

"Good." The detective's eyes opened. "Now… you were grovelling…"

John thumped his shoulder lightly, "Dam you Sherlock. You had me so worried. The nurse said you have a 50/50 chance, Sherlock!" he was shaking, of anger or fear or relief he wasn't sure.

"you're shaking. Now, carry on with the grovelling… I was quite enjoying that."

"Bastard."

"Thankyou."

"You'll have to leave now Sir. And what are you doing awake?" The doctor didn't look happy. Neither did Sherlock.

"Do you mind? My friend here was just about to grovel."

"mmm… come on now then you. Blood pressure time. You-out."

"Alright. I'll be here tomorrow Sherlock. Promise."

"Sure. Thanks." Sherlock said, turning and frowning at the doctor. "How long will I be here?"

"Mr Holmes I don't think you understand your predicament…" 

John couldn't stand to listen any more. He left the hospital, fuming with himself for not saying everything he should of, for telling Sherlock why he was there, why he hadn't left beforehand, and why he always stood by him, no matter what. The facts were simple:

Sherlock was his world.


End file.
